Pretense and Peculiarity
by Michaela90
Summary: The Darcys of Pemberley Hall had always been a private family, socializing with a priveleged few from the nearby villages of Lambton and Kempton...and so it begins, the opening to a story of not quite so felicite domesticness that our favorite hero & hero
1. Default Chapter

**Author's Notes: **_It is I believe, rather important that I state this fact. This story, although a novel length piece of work, will most likely have irregular updates. Pretense and Peculiarity is **not**_ _a member of the Another Sister collection, but is it's own seperate piece of work, that will be more close (God willing) toportraying Austen's work withmuch more acurately. This sequel to Pride and Prejudice will follow what Austen herself dictated for the future of her beloved character's. I will attempt my best with this tale, to do my favorite author proud. _

_I have by no means of the imagination abandoned of forgotton about Another Sister as a matter of fact, I will probably be upsating that story, alony with various others in the up-coming fortnight. In the mean time however, please, allow yourself to enjoy **Pretense and Peculiarity.**_

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**_One_**

The Darcys of Pemberley Hall had always been a private family, socializing with a privileged few in the nearby villages of Lambton and Kempton, staying mostly away from their home, traveling abroad. The old Mr. Darcy had been known by all as the best sort of man; even his enemies had reluctantly claimed that the deceased gentleman had always been affable to the poor and those who were below most gentlemen's notice. The son of the kind man, and now the master of Pemberley Hall, was less well thought of.

"I dare say." Remarked a baffled old matron to her daughter one fine April morning, "That Mr. Darcy has quite a bit of nerve in penning me this letter; quite a bit of nerve indeed!"

"Why is that Mama?" her daughter asked curiously.

"If it had been _old _Mr. Darcy my pet, we would not be receiving news of the young Mr. Darcy's nuptials now. We would have been invited to the wedding! Celebratory ball indeed. I am in no rush to meet Derbyshire's newest huffy."

"Why Mama!" exclaimed the girl her morning's embroidery all but forgotten, "A ball at Pemberley? Oh Mama, why, we must go…Even if the Darcy's have slighted us in the past."

"Heaven's no child! I absolutely forbid it! If Mr. Darcy doesn't want the Goading family around, I have no plans on going to Pemberley, simply to get underfoot."

"But Mama!---" exclaimed she.

"No. And that is the final answer Marianne! Now go on upstairs and change out of your morning dress. I want to call on Mrs. Locke this afternoon and find out if _she_ was invited to this little gathering at Pemberley."

The Goading family was not the only one who had been slighted by the inhabitants of Pemberley Hall since the death of Mr. Darcy. The young Mr. Darcy had been rather reclusive after the death of his father, normal for a young man mourning the death of not one but two most beloved parents. This was expected by all, and for the first two years after the elder had passed away, the neighbors in the country side accepted the antisocialism of Mr. Darcy with benevolence. As more time went by the neighbors began to grow irritated by the young man's attitude. Who was he to slight _them? _They who had been nothing but affable and kind to the gentleman in regards to his father's most unfortunate death?

He did not have the graciousness to pull together some little sort of group of friends for a picnic on his grounds, nor to pay some of his father's oldest and dearest friends an afternoon social call. What should the good inhabitants of Lambton and the surrounding countryside care for the likes of _him_ even if he was so very rich?

Perhaps it was his grief over the loss of his father, or his natural shyness, that made Mr. Darcy so reclusive with his neighbors. Perhaps being surrounded by such dear friends of his father was such a reminder of the death that it was too painful a task to undertake. Or perhaps he thought himself above the company of those not as wealthy or noble as he, and therefore wanted nothing to do with the people who thought that they should be closest to the young man. The pride of the people was shot, and in return for the wounds, soon spread were the rumors of the Darcy family's, pride, arrogance, conceit and disdain towards those lower to themselves.

Georgiana Darcy, sent away to school in Ramsgate and later to London, was little censured. The poor girl had yet to come out, and therefore it was not _her_ fault that she had not called on the old family friends. No, this crime lay with the gentleman alone, and if he believed that one invitation to an all day picnic and evening ball would make up for this infraction with the persons of the area (when it was not even the proper season for balls at that!) he was to be sorely mistaken.

However, when the day came for the infamous picnic at Pemberly Hall, carriages lined the drive and circle, every single one of invited persons in their best finery arriving with punctuality pleasant smiles gracing all of their features. Eager they were to meet the new mistress of Pemberley, and laugh at the hated young man's misfortunes, for they were sure that he must have married some plain heiress with thirty of forty thousand _Lb _that would give him little pleasure in the marriage state. There were those that would wish the gentleman well, and sincerely hoped that marriage would bring him great felicity. However, in cases such as these, grudges are easily held, especially by elderly matrons who felt as though Mr. Darcy's reclusive disposition was a personal insult to their own family, and in particular, their own daughter.

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**Author's Notes: **_And so ends chapter one, which although was rather short, sets the mood and leads way for the plot to unfold, which I assure you isn't going to be as dull or repetive as it may appear._

_My first is is a beggar's word of choice,_

_the only manner he chooses to voice._

_My second is what all thespians dread,_

_should it be bad, they'll have your head!_

_My riddle in a tribuate to Jane, who wrote some very trickey ones when she was much youger than I! And in case you have not figured out what the answer is, I'll tell you:_

_My first is please, My second is review!_

_So please review!_


	2. Chapter Two

**Author's Notes: **_Well, I've finally updated this story. I hope all those who read, enjoy._

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Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy was many things, but never was he nervous. There were certain things that he was expected to do to uphold the Darcy family name, such as affability to the poor, and kindness to his tenants, but no one had ever had the inclination to inform him that slighting his neighbors would be a grievous mistake. 

Only now when he had a new wife in his home to impress did he feel the error of his solitary ways, realizing most acutely that one spring ball was less than likely to make up for almost a decade of negligence on his part. He could see his future before him, filled with balls, parties, and picnics until the end of his days. His home which had through the years, become a refuge away from the bores of town, would become a funhouse filled with music and drinking and people whose pride he had wounded once in the past that he neither liked nor admired.

And so would be calendar for the entirety of his future existence, all for his darling Elizabeth's happiness, who would undoubtedly have great joy in his sufferings, completely unaware of the pain that being much in the company of his large acquaintance would bring.

He would not admit he was nervous. No, he was not nervous for himself, but for _her. _He did not know what he would do if she was slighted by anyone. His greatest wish apart from Elizabeth and his sister from becoming great friends was for Elizabeth to be happy in her new home. Mr. Darcy was a man of great courage, and if making his wife happy meant braving the neighbors, then so be it. He was **not **nervous.

Therefore, despite a hundred things niggling at his mind as to why he should _not _host a celebratory ball at his home, the carefully written invitations were sent, and the white soup was made. April was of course, not the best month to be gathering friends for an out-of-doors foray, the weather as unpredictable as his behavior was fastidious. If the circumstances had not been so decidedly delicate, he would have waited another two months at least, but he knew now when no one had come to call upon his return to the neighborhood, that like anyone else these people had their pride, which he had wounded to such an extent that he was not sure if he would ever be able to heal the breech.

And so the day came that the picnic was to be. He stood next to his wife outside the doors of Pemberly, pleased to note that she was looking remarkably beautiful that morning, wearing a lavender silk gown that displayed her new found finery and wealth, but did not flaunt it.

Georgiana was also looking lovely, and not as terribly horrified of the whole idea as he would normally suspect. Admittedly, her eyes were still somewhat skittish and her complexion a tad pale, but she was talking and smiling and at least attempting to act like she was perfectly at ease, which was a large improvement. Fitzwilliam Darcy added that fact to one of the many reasons why having Elizabeth Bennet in his life was in fact a very smart thing to do.

As the carriages box, chaise, phaeton, curricle and the occasional cabriolet, rounded the drive Mr. Darcy did his best not to bolt on spot. His mind was eagerly telling him to run like the wind, but his legs were telling him to stay firmly planted to the ground. It resulted in a mild civil war going on inside his body in which neither side seemed to be prevailing. Elizabeth, with a teasing smile gracing her lips, placed a gloved hand on his arm.

"Fitzwilliam," she said in a low whisper, "do try and stop this jittery dance of yours. It is making your sister quite uneasy. And makes you look rather foolish, I confess."

Fitzwilliam took a sidelong glance at Georgiana, noting the fact that she did look somewhat distressed. Whether it was from his odd behavior or the approaching carriages he had yet to tell.

When the first coach pulled up to the drive and halted, he let out a sigh of relief at its passengers. Mr. and Mrs. Dansburry had long been his good friends and childhood playmates. He had not seen him since before he had gone to Netherfield, but his and their delight upon the meeting was profound.

"Good God Fitz." Cried Mr. Dansburry hoping down from the yellow phaeton he drove to assist his lady, "It has been over a year since we last met at least!"

"Indeed," replied Mr. Darcy smiling pleasantly, and sending his wife a furtive glance, "and in that year much has happened."

"Amen to that," replied Mr. Dansburry turning his back to the host to help his wife in a more proper fashion.

Once they both had their feet on the ground, Mr. Darcy made the proper introductions. "Mr. Dansburry, Mrs. Dansburry, I fear you are not acquainted with my wife?" Turning to said wife he said, "Mrs. Darcy, allow me to present Mr. And Mrs. Dansburry of Dansburry Hill."

In return they bowed and curtsied and she curtsied in reply. "It is a great pleasure to meet you both. Mr. Darcy had often talked of the delights of his home, but I believed he lacked much generosity when it came to the society I would find here."

"Ah yes, but Mr. Darcy is not known to be one for meaningless flattery. It is customary of course for us, to admire and praise each other when we meet, because that is what the structure of England's society tells us to do, but Mr. Darcy, he is unique." Mrs. Dansburry replied.

"You speak in the voice of a philosopher Ma'm." Said her husband laughingly.

"And had I been born a man, philosophy would have surly been my lot. I would have traveled the world to explain my teachings in the same manner of Aristotle or Socrates." Mrs. Dansburry responded with a slow easy smile.

"Surly though," Mrs. Darcy said easing her way into the conversation, "philosophy can not be truly sectionalized to any sex, or any person. Any person who can think and reflect can philosophize." Glancing at her quiet sister-in-law she added, "Wouldn't you agree Miss Darcy?"

Georgiana, somewhat taken aback by being prevailed upon to speak, (Fitzwilliam had never thought to do that to draw her into a conversation!) was at a loss as to what to say for a moment before replying, "I'm q-quite sure that all the great known philosophers have been men."

She was thankfully saved however with the arrival of more carriages, and more introductions. As the party grew much larger, and a bustle of activity surrounded her brother and sister-in-law, she allowed herself to slip into the shadows and watch what was to unfold.

Unfortunately for her what was to unfold could possibly be too mortifying to look at, even from a very far distance. Such as the window from her bedchamber.

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**Author's Notes:**

_Reviews are fickle things,_

_sometimes they are kind;_

_and once in a while, they will really blowmy mind!_

_However I feel obliged_

_to remind myself while there's time;_

_that if I don't write my stories well, no one will think it's worth a dime!_

_**So please, let me know what you thought!**_


	3. Chapter Three

**Author's Notes: **_My good golly gosh, I've finally managed to update something. I told you all that updates would be irregular but this is getting a tad silly. Allow me to give my sincere apologies regarding my major laziness, and thank all of you who read and reviewed the previous chapters. Believe me, the reviews are a major encouragement to write. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy chapter three._

_This really is a transitional chapter, and unforgivably short, but it introduces you to very important characters, and reacquaints you with families from pervious chapters._

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**Three**

As more and more guests, welcome or otherwise, arrived in the circle drive, all dressed in their most pompous finery for the grand occasion, Elizabeth found herself enveloped in a swarm of elderly women. Some were wealthy widows; some boisterous and jolly wives to Knight So-and-so, but unlike Hertfordshire, none resided in the village with husbands who were merely attorneys or shopkeepers. It was a much different country circle than the type in which Elizabeth had been raised. Encircling her were gentlemen's wives and gentlemen's daughters, and they had had the benefit of a much more privileged childhood then her mother or her Aunt Phillips.

She did not know what exactly she could expect, but she had envisioned shrewd and cross old women, all quite plump and all well bred. She saw sticklers for the more outdated customs of society, and in manners much like Lady Catherine DeBourg, she found them all considering her a disgrace to Pemberley's noble halls.

The authoress can so then can conquer, that Mrs. Darcy had quiet the alarming picturesque of the stereotypical country matron dancing through her mind.

Elizabeth was at a loss as to how to entertain this particular brand of people, but they were certainly not at a loss as to how to completely mortify her. All at once it seemed, a slew of prying questions, good humored and haughty advice, and playful anecdotes reached her ears.

Lady Ackley, obviously the eldest and most respected of the group had taken Elizabeth's left arm and carefully tucked it under hers. She was an extraordinarily tall, thin, and bony woman, with cross looks and a sour disposition to match them. She had been examining Pemberley's mistress with a critical eye only a hair less severe than that of her newly acquired Aunt.

"My dear Mrs. Darcy, you surely did not let Mr. Darcy serve pork hindquarters from his _first_ smoking house to the servants for the wedding celebration?" Said she with an heir of righteous indignation.

Elizabeth was hesitant in her reply, unsure of just what was wrong with what her husband had done. Doing her best to keep her flighty temper in check she replied cautiously, "Certainly Lady Ackley, when I arrived home I had allowed my husband to serve whatever he saw fit for the occasion…I was still was new to the ways of managing my own house, and Mr. Darcy saw it fit to prepare---"

Before however, she could finish her proper reply Mrs. Dambotty, a very plump red faced, wealthy woman that had the appearance of merriment in her features but a sharp, shrewd wit rudely interrupted her.

"Mrs. Darcy," said she in a most shrill and pompous manner, "I tell you the best way to cure a drafty hall like this one here are rolled up linens soaked in oil."

Flustered that her halls were being called drafty and that not one of the ladies seemed to give two straws for her opinion, she hastily replied, "I thank you Mrs. Dambotty; I shall speak to my house keeper of it as soon as may be."

There was a moment of awkward silence as the ladies clustered around the mistress of Pemberley timidly searched for a topic to speak of, but Lady Ackley would not be out done by any mere Mrs. Therefore, before any of the less vicious country matriarchs had a chance to speak, Lady Ackley once again to control of the conversation.

"Mrs. Darcy, I hear you are from Hertfordshire. Who exactly are your parents?"

With a harried sigh, Elizabeth responded in the positive and led the whole party into the morning parlor, dreading what next this vexing day would bring.

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Mr. Darcy, I can quite assure you, was having a far easier time of it then Mrs. Darcy was. Men on a whole are quite an easier sex to please in most means of society. Give them some sport and a hearty meal, give a battle or two for the war hungry, and a witty volume for the intelligent, and they would be perfectly content. Men were interested in far off affairs of blood and battle, rather than the women's battle of social niceties on the home front.

He too, was being similarly badgered with questions about his new state of wedlock, although they were of a much less vicious nature.

"I say Darcy, do they have good sport in Hertfordshire?" Mr. Dansburry asked, as he swiveled a glass of port in his hand and admired the trophies that lined the walls of Mr. Darcy's study.

"Hmm…yes," he responded vaguely into his glass, "My friend Bingley bought an estate there, and we had some fine specimens for the shot."

"Ah Bingley," interjected the aging Colonel Goading from his seat by the fire, "I heard that he has taken a wife as well. Is this true?"

"Yes," Mr. Darcy replied addressing the entire ensemble of gentlemen rather than the one whom had asked, "Mr. Bingley has actually married my wife's elder sister, formally Miss Jane Bennet, they reside in Hertfordshire still."

"Bingley's your brother-in-law then? I suppose we shall see him very often at Pemberley now, more often then we had had before." Dansburry remarked with a small smile.

"If Mr. Bingley has married," remarked John Goading, the colonel's only son, "Mrs. Bingley must be a quite extraordinary creature to look upon, for we all know how particular he is."

With that the conversation changed direction and the time carried on pleasantly, and after a quarter of an hour of socializing with the gentlemen, Mr. Darcy suggested they join the ladies, and continue with their picnic.

On the way out the door however, Mr. Goading could not refrain from whispering to his father, "Odd business of Mr. Bingley marrying. I had always thought he had his sights set on _Miss Darcy_."

Allow me to say that the glint of hope in his son's eyes did not go past the good Colonel.

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**Author's Notes:**

_There is no cure for laziness,_

_I hear I must confess it._

_But when you review my stories,_

_I find it helps to repress it!_

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